And darksome dangers lower?
See, heaven has lit her lamp,
The midnight hour is past,
The chilly night air is damp,
And the dews are falling fast!
Dear father, why leave your bed
When happy daylight is dead?
Frederic enters down aisle.
Mab. Oh, Frederic, cannot you reconcile it with your conscience to say something that will relieve my father’s sorrow?
Fred. I will try, dear Mabel. But why does he sit, night after night, in this draughty old ruin?